the bastion
Maybe I'm a runaway train
Maybe I'm a feather in a hurricane
Maybe I'm a feather in a hurricane
Remi’s smile shifts into something a touch more boyish at her thanks, though his eyes stay steady on hers—gentle, unwavering, filled with the kind of warmth that doesn’t ask for explanation. He understands. She doesn’t have to spell it out. With the way she crumpled and rebuilt herself all in one breath, she’s said more than enough.
When she mentions the brick, he chuckles softly, nodding. "That’s a great idea," he says, dusting off his pants out of habit even if the monster hunter’s guild is already a ruin of what it once was. Together they pick their way over scorched beams and half-toppled walls, the skeleton of the guild casting long shadows in the dusk light that slips through what’s left of the roof. Moss creeps up between the floorboards. Ferns curl where floor meets stone. But eventually, there—tucked near the edge of what might once have been a storage cupboard—is the fireplace. Half the hearth’s been caved in, but enough remains.
"Here we go," Remi murmurs, crouching down. With careful fingers he pries loose one of the bricks. It crumbles a bit at the edges, soot-stained and weatherworn, but it holds. He turns and offers it to Theea with a wink.
Dusting his hands on his thighs, he straightens, then tilts his head toward her with a faint grin. "Anything else you want to do while we’re here? I make a pretty good chaperone." There’s lightness in his voice now—gentle teasing, a breeze cutting through the ache they’ve unearthed. But if not, he’ll simply guide her back out into the gathering dark, wings half-spread behind them both like a final shield against the ghosts they’ve stirred.
~FIN
When she mentions the brick, he chuckles softly, nodding. "That’s a great idea," he says, dusting off his pants out of habit even if the monster hunter’s guild is already a ruin of what it once was. Together they pick their way over scorched beams and half-toppled walls, the skeleton of the guild casting long shadows in the dusk light that slips through what’s left of the roof. Moss creeps up between the floorboards. Ferns curl where floor meets stone. But eventually, there—tucked near the edge of what might once have been a storage cupboard—is the fireplace. Half the hearth’s been caved in, but enough remains.
"Here we go," Remi murmurs, crouching down. With careful fingers he pries loose one of the bricks. It crumbles a bit at the edges, soot-stained and weatherworn, but it holds. He turns and offers it to Theea with a wink.
Dusting his hands on his thighs, he straightens, then tilts his head toward her with a faint grin. "Anything else you want to do while we’re here? I make a pretty good chaperone." There’s lightness in his voice now—gentle teasing, a breeze cutting through the ache they’ve unearthed. But if not, he’ll simply guide her back out into the gathering dark, wings half-spread behind them both like a final shield against the ghosts they’ve stirred.
~FIN
Maybe it's a long play game
But maybe that's a good thing
But maybe that's a good thing
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
